


Home Again

by Hestia_Ciel_Reme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deastiel, Destiel - Freeform, Hallucinations, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Post-Purgatory Dean, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, To Be Continued, Winchester - Freeform, dean hallucinations, dean/cas - Freeform, followscanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia_Ciel_Reme/pseuds/Hestia_Ciel_Reme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Following Dean's return from purgatory)<br/>After a year of clawing through purgatory in search of Castiel, Dean finds himself back home, but the loss of his dearest friend is weighing on him; both in his dreams and while he wakes, he can see Castiel's haunted face just as he remembered it from their last moments together at the gate to earth - his torn and dirtied clothes draped over reaching arms.<br/>While tormented by these all too vivid mirages Dean struggles to find the strength he once had; the ability to pretend that things never got to him, but as the days go by - each longer and more tiresome than the last - his composure and strength of will fades rapidly.<br/>With Castiel gone and the knowledge that Sammy gave up on him settling like a heavy stone in his stomach Dean yearns for times gone by when simply calling Cas's name would bring the Angel to his side, now, however, his calls go unanswered but for the ever present illusions.</p><p>(I hope you all like it, there will be more chapters to come, this first chapter sets the scene, all chapters after this will take place between the scenes we saw in the show)</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing Things

_Claws raked across his back as he clambered the steep incline; the searing pain ripped the breath from his lungs and he fell to his knees, he glanced up to see Benny reaching down with a bloodied hand, Castiel stood at the man's shoulder calling Dean's name. Looking back, Dean’s eyes met with those of a monster so terrible that even God thought it unwise to unleash them upon human kind. He tore his gaze away and heaved himself to his feet; shaking from exhaustion and dizzy for lack of blood he caught Benny’s hand and - with the help of both the vampire and angel - was hauled forward; away from the creature’s grasp._

Dean sat bolt upright; gasping for air as he looked around wild-eyed, there were no monsters, no makeshift lean-to’s, he was alone in the backseat of a stolen pick-up truck, under the foliage of a large oak leaning out over the layby - where he had parked after swerving into oncoming traffic; bleary eyed and half asleep.

He shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to chase the last of his weariness away, the stubble of his unkempt beard grated on the skin of his palm as he slumped back into the warm leather. He hadn’t had so much sleep for what felt like a millennia – which of course had only been a year in purgatory but there seemed to be no difference.

Dean looked past the driver seat at the canary yellow clock on the dash, he groaned; it had been an entire day. He climbed between the two front seats and situated himself in front of the steering wheel, his vision went black and he gripped the wheel to steady himself; he hadn’t eaten properly in days and his body was growing weak because of it. Dean lent over to the passenger’s side and opened the glove compartment, he rifled through the mess of receipts and empty crisp packets looking for any spare change; he was in luck, his fingers brushed against rough leather and he tugged the wallet free of whatever mysterious substance stuck it to the bottom of the compartment, he wrenched it’s worn folds apart and grasped at the crumpled papers within – 50, 100, 150, $220 dollars lay in his shaking hands; despite it not being all that much it felt like a God send, Dean’s head fell back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and sighed with relief. “Thank God!”

He stowed the money in his jacket pocket and started the engine; it roared to life with a satisfying rumble which helped Dean to relax a little – he wondered if he would ever be accustomed to hearing the sound of man made vehicles after spending a year amongst the most unearthly beings he was certain had ever existed.

As he drove down the unfamiliar road Dean’s mind wandered back to the chaotic forests of monster heaven; it hadn't been too long before he had found Benny, they had met during a fight with a Vampire; Benny had dispatched the thing after freeing Dean who had been pinned under the creatures fierce grasp. The other vampire - whom Dean had come to think of as something of a brother – had known of a way to escape purgatory; they could have escaped almost immediately, but Castiel was still out there and there was no way in hell Dean was leaving without him – _Cas_. Just the thought of him stuck in that wretched, dirty place sent shivers up Dean’s spine, he gritted his teeth and clutched at his chest; the thought was accompanied with a terrible ache, images were brought - unbidden – to the forefronts of his mind; Cas reaching out toward Dean as they neared the gate, Cas calling his name as his hold on the angel loosened, the betrayed look in his friend’s eyes as they were torn apart from each other. Dean screwed his eyes shut, he pushed the memories to the back of his mind and looked up at the road ahead - _dammit Dean! Your back in the game now; you’ve fixed Benny, all’s left to do now is find Sammy and we can drag Cas’s ass back out of purgatory some other way_ – Dean focussed on this thought and continued to drive.

Pulling up at a _Gas ’n’ Sip_ Dean got out of the rusty orange pick-up and started to fill the tank, while he waited he looked around the gas station; people milled about their daily businesses, a mother scolded her child for stealing a bar of chocolate – who was promptly escorted back into the shop by his ear – others stood beside their cars just as Dean did. He shook his head and blinked a few times; he wasn’t entirely sure this was all real, he had lost count of the times he’d dreamt of finding Cas and returning to Earth but this time was different; he hadn’t immediately returned to Sam for one, another thing was the detail; everything was crystal clear now: people’s faces, the plain Gas ‘n’ Sip sign with the rising sun beside it (If ever the gas station had come to Dean’s mind during his time in purgatory the picture beside the words had always gone forgotten), the tar covered roads and the clear skies, all of it had been murky and unclear in previous dreams; this fact alone gave Dean hope that what he was seeing and experiencing was in-fact reality.

Dean returned his attention to the petrol pump; he had filled up as much as he could afford, he pulled it out from the truck and hung it back up after shutting the cover. He turned back toward the door of the truck; the window was half open and in its reflection Castiel stood by his side, his heart leapt and he spun around, “Cas?!” but there was no-one; not even someone whom he could have mistaken for the Angel, the space where the figure had been standing was empty. Dean closed his eyes and slumped against the side of the truck, he ran a scarred hand down his face and opened his eyes “Crap!” he said, suddenly furious, _why didn’t I just walk back through that damn portal when I couldn’t reach Cas, why didn’t I try harder to pull him through!_ These thoughts ran through his mind one after another, as though it had appointed itself as both his judge and jury and he wasn’t arguing when it found him guilty. He turned and reached through the half open window to get his jacket from the passenger seat, he yanked it out of the cab and dug out the money from the inside pocket, he stalked into the shop and grabbed whatever food he could afford after buying the fuel, he paid for both and took the change.

Dean walked out of the store and looked around; there was a phone booth a couple of paces away from the car wash; he slid inside and looked down at the coins in his hand, placing a few in the machine he dialled one of Sam’s numbers; it rang and rang unanswered, Dean left a short message and tried another of Sam’s mobiles, the pattern repeated itself until Dean had gone through all of them, he hung up and shouldered his way out of the booth. “Damn it Sammy, where the hell are you?” frustrated he made his way back to the truck, he climbed into the front seat and dumped the food in the back. “God I feel dirty!” he exclaimed, looking at his hands. He had thought that after a year covered in the filth of purgatory he’d have no problem with phone booths, but to his surprise, his dislike of those cramped, germ ridden glass boxes remained. He rubbed his hands on his ‘borrowed’ jeans and started up the engine.

As he drove he reached behind him to get the rucksack out of the back, after a short struggle he dumped it on the passenger seat, on top of his blood-stained jacket, he turned his eyes back to the road; steering single handed down the dry, heat cracked highway while his other hand struggled to find the zip to the main compartment, he gave another quick glance (not wanting to take his eyes off the road for too long) and did a double take; stuck in the elastic string pocket at the front of the bag was a crumpled photograph of a young couple standing in front of a colourful, retro style camper van. Dean smirked and yanked the photo from its hold. “Dork” he threw the picture to the stifling wind and drove on, shaking his head as he remembered the scrawny kid who’d stood between him and his pigtailed girlfriend (not that he’d actually have shot her, he hadn’t even had any bullets left in the damn thing after a year fighting God-knows-what). Dean sighed with relief when he finally reached the water bottle inside and took a large gulp before returning it.

He pulled over into another layby when he decided that he really couldn’t go much farther without eating something. He twisted around in his seat and snatched up the plastic wrapped pie; it had cooled down by now but that didn’t matter to him, it was going to be his first pie in just over a year; anything was fine. He unwrapped it and took a none-too-elegant bite out of the golden glazed pastry. “Mhm!” He exclaimed as the taste of the seasoned steak chunks hit his palette. He rested his head back against the seat as he savoured his second bite, Dean looked down at the pie once he’d eaten half and groaned; he was so tempted to eat the rest there and then but he knew he’d have to save it. He grudgingly shoved it in the bag and frowned; something hard had brushed his knuckles as he’d done so, he pulled the thing out and set it on his lap, it was a small hardback Atlas. He nodded his approval as he flicked through the coffee stained pages, he stopped for a moment, his lips quivering as he muttered under his breath; trying to figure out his current location, when he finally found himself in relation to the map he began plotting his way to Rufus’s place. To his relief it wasn’t too far away and he could probably make it three quarters of the way there before he runs out of gas; he’d have to walk the rest but that was nothing new after having spent the last year without any form of transport.

 

Finally after a long drive Dean had arrived outside the familiar wooden cabin, he was nearly overcome with relief; his legs became weak and almost unable to support his weight. He shook himself and regained his composure, he made his way forward, keeping low to the ground and avoiding the windows. If purgatory had taught him anything it would be caution. He scoped the place out; making sure there were no intruders lurking behind bushes or inside the house (as much as he could see through the windows at least), he was dismayed to realize that Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Dean inched his way to the door, his eyes flitting about almost wildly (he’d learnt to take in a lot of information in a short glance), when he couldn’t see any traps and had checked every possible hiding space for ambushers he edged up to the front door. With his back set against the log wall of the cabin, he tightened his grip on the rough handle of his trusty make-shift blade and turned the door handle, he let the door swing open. Slowly and with the utmost caution he peered around the door and into the cabin. It was empty as he warily made his way through the place, when he was certain nothing was hiding and ready to kill him he set his blade down and began looking in more detail at his surroundings. There were old papers lying about and a coffee mug with a ring of dried coffee around its edge. So Sam hasn’t been back here in a while? Maybe as far back as when things went down with Dick Roman? There was dust everywhere, A light grey blanket of it layered the top of the round wooden table beside the couch – which looked equally as neglected, it swirled in clouds; slowly drifting through the beams of sunlight filtering in from the window beside a rustic looking deer antler trophy.

After he had been sure there was no threat of attack Dean had taken his first shower in what felt like forever. Exhaustion began to weigh on his eyelids now as he stumbled to the bedroom, he collapsed onto its thick mattress in nothing but a towel. He coughed lightly in response to the sudden plume of dust he’d disturbed from the covers but otherwise he did nothing to suggest that he was anything but blissfully happy with the less than clean living quarters.

* * *

 

A few days had gone by now; Dean had cleaned the place a little but he was no maid, what did he care if the place was a little dusty? There was plenty of canned food in the cabinets; enough to last a week or two at least. After a quick wash (he daren’t spend as much time in the shower as he had that first night; he’d been half asleep and hadn’t thought of how compromising his position was if he’d been attacked in that situation; no weapon, nothing, it had been a stupid move that he wasn’t prepared to repeat) he had just pulled on his jeans and a red plaid shirt when he heard the distant sound of an engine coming up the dirt drive.

“Shit!” Dean cast about him for the two bottles he’d prepared; grabbed them both and placed them close to the door, he went quickly to the place which he had previously decided would be best in the event that someone should come through the front door (which seemed most likely in this case as they had the nerve to drive all the way up here instead of take the stealthier option of going on foot) he hid to the left of the door and waited. He listened as the car came to a stop and the -somehow familiar- sound of the engine cut off. He tensed; his breathing steady from many months of stalking his prey in much the same way as this – allowing them to walk into his own territory as he lies in wait; concealed from them in the most advantageous hiding place.

He listened as heavy footsteps made the short distance from the car to the front door. He held his breath as he watched the door open; the white enochian sigil Cas had drawn swinging ever closer. A large figure stepped forward from behind the door and Dean almost gasped. _Keep your cool Dean this could be one of those big mouths come to finish the job_ he scolded as he leapt forward, he hit the door shut to prevent the thing from escaping, it began to turn its head but Dean was moving too quickly and it hadn’t seemed prepared for an attack anyway by the look of stunned surprise on its face as it hit the floor. Dean pinned him beneath his own wait and reached for the holy water, he soaked the thing until he was satisfied it wasn’t a demon. He threw the bottle aside and reached for the other.

“What? I’m not a demon!” It exclaimed in a disgruntled voice that was all too familiar to Dean. He picked up the second bottle which was filled with borax and splashed it over the other guy. The 6"5" sasquatch turned his head to avoid the liquid as best he could “or a L-Leviathan! What –” Dean reached for the silver plated knife from the waistband of the back of his pants and grabbed the guys flailing wrist, he put the edge of the blade to the exposed skin of his forearm and drew it across his flesh; leaving a line of blood in its wake. Sam gasped in pain and clasped his other hand over the wound while Dean replaced the knife in his waistband.

“Or a shifter.” Dean summarised. Sam sighed in exasperation “Good!” Dean said he picked up the two bottles in his left hand as he got to his feet; finally satisfied that this was in-fact his little brother. “My turn” Dean motioned for Sam to perform the tests on himself “Come –on let’s go” he said as he held the two bottles out to Sam.

“I don’t need to” Sam replied, raising his eyebrows and looking Dean up and down as though this display of over cautious behaviour pretty much proved that it was his elder brother. “I know it’s you”.

“Damnit Sammy!” Dean growled, obviously disapproving of Sam’s lack of vigilance. He proceeded to do the tests on himself as Sam got to his feet. He held his knife out to Sam “Come on!” he urged when Sam didn’t take it.

“No Dean! Can I just say hello?” Sam protested. Dean pursed his lips in disapproval as he drew up his own sleeve, he proceeded to cut into his own arm and presented it for Sam to see. Of course it didn’t sizzle and burn as it would have done if he were a shape shifter, neither had the holy water or cleaning fluids had any effect on either of them.

“Alright” Dean laughed in astonishment “well, let’s do this”. His face had relaxed now from its previous predatory scowl to a softer more Dean-like smile. Sam laughed in surprise and utter bewilderment.

“I don’t know whether to give you a hug or take a shower” The younger of the two stammered. Dean laughed; which was a strange sound to both their ears; to Sam because he had never expected to hear that laugh again, and to Dean because he had never thought he’d have another reason to laugh after finding himself in that dark and awful place, surrounded by monsters with glowing red eyes and only Castiel’s brief words for company after he had disappeared.

“Come here” Dean said as he stepped forward, taking Sam up in a bracing hug. Sam hugged back tightly and laughed in profound relief. Dean pushed him away to arms length so that he could get a better look at him. Sam was smiling and shaking his head.

“Dude! You’re frickin’ alive!” Sam said in wonder as he paced away from him, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair as if to wipe away some illusion from his eyes. He turned to Dean “I mean, what the hell happened?” he said, spreading his arms questioningly.

“Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to purgatory” Dean replied with feigned light-heartedness, despite his underlying seriousness. Sam looked shocked at the new revelation.

“Wh-, you were in purgatory?” Sam asked in disbelief. Dean nodded gravely. “For the whole year?”

“Yeah, time flies when you’re running for your life” Dean answered, with less humour now than he had before.

“Well, How’d you get out?”

Dean paused for a little too long. “I guess whoever built that box didn’t want me in there any more than I did” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m here. Okay” Dean replied in a tone that indicated he was finished with the conversation but Sam wasn’t done; there were too many questions, all of the details were too vague.

“What about Cas? Was he there?” He pressed. Dean faltered, looking away he started to walk, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Cas didn’t make it” A bitterness laced Deans voice that worried Sam to no end.

“What, exactly, does that mean?” He asked, now talking to Deans back. Dean swallowed; suddenly stuck for words.

“Something happened to him down there-” He said, voice quivering with suppressed grief “- Things got pretty hairy towards the end and he- just let go”. Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing _Cas, Dead? That couldn’t be what he was saying_.

“So Cas is dead? You saw him die?” Sam asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. Or at least wanting Dean to say something that would reassure him in some way.

“I saw enough” was the ambiguous answer he received.

“So, then what? You’re not sure?” Sam asked hopefully.

“I said I saw enough, Sam” Dean turned, his voice held a resolute tone. Dean was still working through what had happened and it still haunted him that maybe, just maybe, Cas was stuck in that place forever, and that was on him.

“Right… but Dean, I’m sorry” Sam said sympathetically, unsure of what else to say. Hearing Sam offering his condolences struck a chord in Dean, he tried to pass off the ache he felt in his chest with a short reply.

“Me too…” Dean turned then; when he felt they were delving too deep into what was already a painful subject.

“So you, I-I pff, I can’t believe your actually here” He said as he reached for two beers out of the broken fridge. “You know that ah, half your numbers are out of service?-” he said as he walked back toward the small table. “-felt like I was leaving messages in the wind”. Dean sat down and took the cap off of one of the bottles, the other he slid over the table toward Sam.

“Yeah, I-I-I… didn’t get your messages” Sam said, looking down nervously.

“How come?” Dean’s voice had suddenly taken on a gruff undertone, as though he already knew the reason Sam hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Probably because I ditched the phones”

“Because?” Dean asked, his voice uncertain.

“I guess um….. I guess something happened to me this year too” Sam shrugged as though he were trying to downplay the apparent seriousness of his actions. “I don’t hunt, anymore” Sam finished, drawing in a breath; expecting Dean to be outraged. Instead Dean laughed; he clearly thought Sam was pulling his leg.

“Yeah! And Sasha Grey’s gone legit!” Dean joked. Sitting back in his chair; now at ease in the thought that Sam had only been messing with him and there was surely some good reason for his cell phones being deactivated, he went to take a swig of his drink and hesitated seeing the expression on his brother’s face. The smile soon disappeared from his face and was replaced by a stern look. Sam laughed awkwardly. “What?” Dean pressed.

“Nothing- eh, she did a Soderbergh movie” Sam explained, clearly amused at the coincidental turn of phrase.

“What?” Dean asked, clearly the answer Sam gave was not what he was looking for Sam repeated himself but Dean cut across him. “No! You, Sam! You quit?” Dean’s disbelief was clear in his tone, along with his shock. Sam nodded uncertainly.

“Yeah, yeah I- you were gone Dean, Cas was gone, Bobby was dead. I mean Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown.” Sam tried to defend himself, but in Deans eyes his excuses were weak at best.

“So you just turned tail on the family business?”

“Nothin’ says family quite like the whole family being dead” Sam retorted, clearly unwilling to be portrayed as the bad guy in the situation.

“I wasn’t dead” At this Sam flinched. Obviously that thought had occurred to him now and it seemed to be weighing on him already.

 

After the argument Dean had gone to the bar a couple of miles down the highway. At first he’d been surprised that he’d gone there; he’d assumed that after a beer free year in God’s armpit this habit of his would have been beaten out of him –apparently not. When he’d returned home he’d first gone to check that Sam was still there, despite their argument he couldn’t deny that -after he’d cooled down- he was ecstatic to be back beside his brother; even if there were a few issues they need to Iron out before things could get back to normal. When he was satisfied that Sam was happily asleep in his bed Dean retired to his room. He sunk into the thick mattress and closed his eyes; willing himself to slip into unconsciousness. Despite his weariness it was a struggle; he lay awake for a long time, his mind wandered often to thoughts of Castiel fighting alone in purgatory. As he slipped into dreams of sharp fanged monsters and razor claws he hoped vaguely that now he had reunited with his brother these nightmares that haunt him would lessen and eventually fade. He was not in the least prepared for the torment of the coming weeks.


	2. "-the soft tread of your step on the stair." - John Geddes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These visions that plague Dean are becoming too much for him to handle. The brothers catch a case in Idaho but it's cut short when Sam decides that Dean is unable to do the job. In true supernatural fashion the Winshesters hash things out in a run down motel and Dean's secret is revealed.
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave your ideas for coming chapters, I'm running out of inspiration, What do you want to happen? I try to write the characters as true to the originals as possible so I'm sure I'll enjoy trying to work with your suggestions.

Most mornings Dean wakes to his own screams; this morning was no different. Dean lay in bed drenched in sweat and gasping for air, his throat was raw and it hurt when he gulped down a few mouthfuls of water that had been left at his bedside. Dean sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, he paused for a moment; dizzy from the sudden movement.

  
He looked to his nightstand at the water pitcher; droplets of condensation ran down the bottle green glass and left a wet ring on the pine table-top. Dean shook his head and sighed, it seemed that despite their argument a couple of days ago Sam was still looking out for him. Sam had quickly learnt that waking Dean from these nightmares didn’t help one bit, so instead he would leave something for Dean to soothe his aching throat with when he wakes up (which was around 6am without fail; it intrigued Sam when he had first learnt of this mysterious routine; it didn’t matter what time Dean fell to sleep, he would always wake at roughly that time every morning, which is why Sam would always bring him a cold drink just before then).

  
Dean got to his feet and walked over to the airing cupboard, he grabbed a lime green towel from the nearest pile and headed to the shower in his boxers. He’d relaxed slightly now that he knew Sammy was around; he was less cautious of his surroundings now and he didn’t immediately check his protective barriers upon waking.

  
He rounded the corner at the end of the landing and caught a glimpse of something coming toward him; without thinking he spun it around and pinned it to the wall.  
“Woa Dean! It’s me!” Sam said breathlessly; clearly he’d been caught off guard in the very sudden and unexpected attack. Dean blinked, suddenly realising what he’d done. He stepped back quickly and released Sam from his hold. He’s reacted purely instinctually; despite the fact he was slowly returning to his regular self when it came to his almost lax use of protective barriers his senses remained sharp and vigilant; which was becoming a slight problem.

  
“Sorry Sammy, I didn’t realise…” Dean trailed off; unsure of how he could excuse his behaviour without bringing that place up; and he was especially keen to avoid any mention of purgatory if at all possible. Sammy turned around rubbing his arms which Dean had twisted behind his back in less than a second.

  
“Jeez Dean, this is like the third time now” Sam complained. However, despite the irritated tone of his voice he was looking at Dean with worry in his eyes. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Dean had gone through to give him killer reactions like that, and it pained him to try; thinking of all those terrible monsters – all faceless to him – that had plagued Dean for more than 365 days. He shook his head slightly; willing the thought away, he didn’t want to imagine the horrors his brother had faced while he remained here without even trying to save him.

  
“Yeah I know, look I’m sorry man” the older of the two apologized again. Sam looked down and noticed the towel that had been discarded on the floor, Dean had dropped it to free his hands. Sam scoffed in amazement at how quickly he’d reacted in such a brief moment when he himself hadn’t a clue what was going on until he was already facing the wall.

  
“You taking a shower?” Sam asked. Dean nodded and picked the towel up, brushing the dust off as he walked past. Dean closed the door behind him when he reached the bathroom and sighed. He desperately wanted to talk to Sam, to ask him what he’d been doing this past year if not hunting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it; not after he’d learnt that Sam had left Kevin alone God-knows-where, not now he knew that while he’d been fighting for his life and looking for Cas, Sam hadn’t searched for either of them.

  
He padded over to the shower and let it run while he brushed his teeth. He looked up at the mirror above the sink and wasn’t surprised to see dark rings beneath his eyes; tell-tale signs that he had become something of an insomniac. He rinsed his mouth out and went over to the shower which had warmed up enough by now that he wouldn’t freeze. He stepped in and grit his teeth against the sudden heat; back in purgatory the only times he got to wash was when he found a deep stream or the occasional miniature water fall; both of which were freezing. After a short while he became accustomed to the heat and he put his head back so his face was set against the falling water; washing away the remnants of his lethargy.

  
Dean wrapped the towel around his mid-section as he left the bathroom. When he reached his room he toweled himself down and pulled on a black T-shirt over his still dripping hair, he bent down to fix the lip of his jeans, as he righted himself something in the mirror caught his eye, his stomach lurched and he pivoted quickly to look behind him.

  
There in the corner of the room stood Castiel, but not the Castiel that wore a dirty, blood-stained trench coat, not the Castiel who’d been snatched away from him at the gates of purgatory, no; this Castiel wore a clean blue tie, an unmarked overcoat and an expression reminiscent of their first meeting; somehow vacant of the emotion he’d gained over the years. “Cas?” Dean stammered, his voice thick with hopefulness and an underlying fear that this was just another of his delusions. He advanced slowly; hardly daring to blink for fear that Cas might suddenly disappear. “Cas is that really you?” The man’s lips parted to form words that Dean could not hear. Dean blanched, had he already forgotten his voice?

  
Cas stepped forward, his arm raising as though he was reaching toward Dean. Dean hastened toward him but before he reached Cas the door slammed open. “Hey Dean! We’ve got to go, there’s a case down in Idaho and we need to make it before-” Sam trailed off seeing his brother’s outstretched arm seemingly reaching toward nothing. Dean spun around, his face was devoid of expression and very pale; he looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Uh...Dean?” Sam glanced around the room looking for an explanation. Dean’s expression remained vacant for a moment and then realisation sunk in, he spun around and his shoulders slumped; the room was empty but for him and his brother. He sighed and returned his attention to his brother who still stood in the doorway of his room, looking more confused perhaps than he had before.

  
“What do you want Sam?” Dean asked as he staggered to his bed; suddenly unsteady. “Last I checked you and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms”.

  
“Right, but I figured since we don’t have a lead on Kevin we could check out this case” Sam reasoned.

  
“Case? Sam, I’m not even sure you remember how to work a gun let alone find a case” Dean retorted.

  
“Oh come on Dean! I took a year out. One year! Not fifty. Quit being so childish, you wanted me back in the game so here I am. I’m still me, I can still work a case.” Sam fumed, he whirled out of sight and stomped down the creaking stairs. “I’ll be in the Impala if you do decide to come! If you’re not down there in 10 minutes I’m leaving without you!” Sammy called up the stairs, moments later Dean heard the front door slam. He sighed and closed his eyes, he cast a withered glance over his shoulder to where Castiel had stood and shook his head _of course he’s not there you dumb son of a bitch, he never was, he’s back in purgatory where you left him_! Dean grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut against the stinging tears that threatened to break his shaky façade. He lurched to his feet suddenly and grabbed his duffel from the arm chair in the corner of the room, he threw open his drawers and began roughly packing his clothes with very little care for neatness.

  
Sam was sat in the driver’s seat when Dean slammed the front door closed behind him, he stalked over to the car and yank the back door open to shove his duffel on the back seat, Dean moved to the driver’s door and ducked his head so that he could see Sam through the open window. “Move over, there’s no way I’m ridin’ shotgun” He ordered, Sam gave a quick laugh and began to shuffle over.

  
“Ah, yeah sure thing Dean”. He opened the door and slid in beside Sam. They drove for a long time in silence before Dean finally spoke.

  
“So, ah… so this case, what are we looking at? Demon? Vengeful spirit?” Dean asked, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sam was roused from his daze, he blinked and straightened in his seat, coughing once to clear his throat. “Right, yeah, so I was looking for any signs of leviathan activity; seeing if there were any cases of people who had a sudden change of personality before they die in some freak accident or something-”

  
“And? Did you find one? Those freaks still jumping people?” Dean cut in, eager to get some pay-back for his unplanned and very much unappreciated trip to purgatory.

  
“Well no, I haven’t been able to find any evidence so far that the Leviathan are even still out there. Honestly, it’s looking more and more likely that they just died along with Dick” Sam explained, Dean frowned in confusion.

  
“Then what the hell are we doing? Why are we going to Idaho if you didn’t find anything?” Dean quizzed, clearly getting frustrated with Sammy’s round-about explanation. After what had happened that morning he’d developed quite a short temper and telling him that there were no new leads on the big-mouths wasn’t helping.

  
“I didn’t say I didn’t find anything” Sam said, somewhat reproachfully. Sam continued; “While I was searching I found some mysterious deaths surrounding Sun Valley-“

  
“And that’s in Idaho?” Dean glanced over at Sam questioningly.

  
“Yeah if we just follow the 75 it should be somewhere along Big Wood River, anyways, there were reports of people who died after seeing what they described as a ‘headless man one a pitch black motorbike’” Sam explained while reading from a case file resting in his lap.

  
“So what like a….. headless horseman?” Dean asked sceptically.

  
“Well no, not exactly anyway, as best as I can figure I’d say it was a Dullehan or a ‘Dark Man’ if you prefer”

  
“Whoa, hold on a second, a Dullehan? I thought they were Scottish or something. What’s it doing in the US? Got fed up of haggis so he came over to get a slice of some huckleberry pie instead?” Dean joked, his mood seemed to have brightened a little now, Sam smiled seeing his brother grinning at his own joke. It was a relief to see the tension ease away from his brother even if it was momentary.

  
“Yeah, I don’t think it came to eat pie, and it’s not Scottish it’s from Irish lore” Sam laughed.

  
“Whatever! Get to the point” Dean smiled, lines wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

  
“So the Dullehan is kind of like a banshee; it’s believed to be a foreteller of death. In fact some lore even suggests that the two would ride together at times.” The younger brother explained in his familiar tone; never missing a beat through many years of constant practice. Dean sank back into the comfortable leather of the Impala’s bench seats, listening to his brother ramble on about all the various stories regarding the creature, outlining the different things that could kill or hurt it – apparently it had something against gold but Dean wasn’t sure where they were going to find enough to be of any use.

* * *

  
Dean was watching the road absently as he drove. Watching the vague outline of trees against the dying sunset as Sam read through eye witness accounts of the various Dullehan sightings around the area. He flicked the headlights on and soon enough everything was shadow outside of the long beams of light. Sammy was mid-sentence when a trench coated figure suddenly appeared in front of the car, Dean hit the brakes and they screeched to a halt, they were thrown forward in their seats and Sam hit his head on the dash.

  
“Ow! What the Hell?!” Sam exclaimed as he rubbed his forehead. He looked over to Dean confusedly but he wasn’t given an answer, Dean was already halfway out of the car, he ran to the front casting about wildly. Sam stumbled out of the car and went to his brother’s side. “What are you looking for Dean? Why’d you stop the car?” Sam glanced around, there was nothing, just the black forests and the low hum of the idling engine.

  
“Cas….he was…” Dean stammered looking at a spot a meter from the hood of the car. Sam looked at Dean steadily.

  
“Cas? Where? I didn’t see him.” Sam frowned looking again toward the forests and down the dark highway, again he saw nothing.

  
“What do mean? He was right in front of the car! How’d you not see him?” Dean looked to his brother searchingly, trying to see any hint that might suggest Sam was lying, that he had actually seen him but was pretending not to in order to spare Dean from whatever seeing Cas might mean. There was nothing, Sam’s face was blank, clearly he had seen nothing. Concern knitted his eyebrows together and weighed down the corners of his mouth.

  
“What’s going on with you lately? You keep blanking out all the time, staring off at the walls like you’re looking at a ghost. And what were you doing this morning?” Sam demanded, Dean shook his head and ran his hand over his face, unwilling to answer all the questions he was being bombarded with. He turned and started to walk back toward the car. “Hey Dean!” Sam called after him, he could hear Sam’s heavy footsteps working to catch up, they diverted course and went around to the other side of the car, by the time Dean sat down Sam had already settled himself in the passenger’s side and was looking at him expectantly. Dean did't showed no sign that he acknowledged Sam's question, instead he put his foot on the gas and they were moving down the highway again. For a while Dean tried to ignore Sam but eventually he gave in.

  
“Look, I’m not gonna talk about it Sam! I thought I saw him, I was wrong, end of story” Dean said dismissively. “Now could you just leave it alone?”

  
“No, Dean. I won’t. You can’t do the job in the state you’re in. Even if you could, I won’t let you” concern and worry layered Sam’s voice.

  
“Oh yeah? Who’s gonna stop the Dullahan from ganking more innocent people if we back down now?” Dean argued.

  
“I’ll put another hunter on it. They can deal with it. Please, let’s just go back” Sam pleaded. Dean glanced at him, taken aback by the emotion in his brother’s voice. Sam seemed genuinely concerned for him which shocked Dean; not because Sam being worried for him was something unheard of (because it was practically his hobby) but because Dean hadn’t realised that there was something to be that worried for. Did Sam think that he was seeing Cas’s ghost? Dean didn’t think that was the case but how could he be sure? The thing hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to find out.

  
After a long deliberating silence Dean finally came to a decision “All right, we’ll pull out. You call whoever you' got to. But were not heading back tonight, the drive’ll take at least another half a day. We’ll find a motel and head back in the morning” Dean declared as he made a U turn and headed back toward the motel they had passed half an hour ago.

* * *

  
Sammy shut the battered wooden door behind him as Dean dumped the bags on the nearest bed. The room was uncomfortably pink, with rose coloured lamps and pink and black zebra print rugs that were dizzying to look at, at least the bedding was a nice neutral red. Sam walked over to the bed Dean hadn’t claimed and set down his satchel. He sat on the edge of his bed and waited as Dean finished up in the bathroom, when he was finally done he came out shirtless wearing a new pair of jeans, his hair was wet and droplets of water were running down his back as he turned to sit on the end of his own bed. Sam watched as Dean bent to dry his hair, his head almost between his knees as he did so. When he was seemingly satisfied that his hair was dry enough he raised head and flinched in shock “God!” he lowered his head into his hand; his gaze falling to the floor. He’d paled visibly in that moment, Sam frowned and looked around the room; there was nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nothing that should scare his brother- unless the toxic looking damp that was spreading from the corners of the room was something to be afraid of.

  
“You can see him can’t you?” Sam leaned forward toward his brother. Dean tensed, the muscles of his shoulders working under his scarred skin.

  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about” Dean sighed, too tired to put effort in the lie now.

  
“You see Castiel sometimes don’t you? That’s what you were looking at this morning?” Sam asked, eager to hear the truth for the first time since Dean had started acting strange.

  
Dean twisted around to grab a dark T-shirt from the duffel and pull it over his head as he replied “So what, you thinking a ghost or something? Yeah well, news flash, he ain’t dead.”

  
“So you admit that you do see him?” Sam urged.

  
“What? No! I never said that!” Dean argued, still unwilling to admit it even to himself. “Can’t you just drop it already? I’m tired and I just want to get some shut-eye.” Dean lay himself down on his back and closed his eyes, crossing his ankles. His classic ‘we’re done talking’ pose, but Sam wasn’t going to back out this time. He scoffed, his eyebrows raising indignantly.

  
“No Dean, I won’t just ‘drop it’ you’re going to get yourself killed at this rate!” Sam protested. “Look I get it man, really I do…. When Jess- when Jess died there were times when I thought I saw her too.” Sam confessed, Dean sat up looking at his younger brother.

  
“You never mentioned that” Dean watched as Sam lips twitched into a sad smile.

  
“And I wasn’t going to” he looked up at Dean and shrugged as he said it, a motion that said that there had never been the need to say anything, that he had gotten over it and hadn’t thought about it up until now. Dean looked away.

  
“Yeah, well I don’t see how that has anything to do with this. That was Jess, you loved her. This is- this is just Cas…” Dean cast his eyes to the floor, wringing his hands as he spoke. “…it’s not the same.”

  
“But it is though, isn’t it?” Sam pressed.

  
“It is what?”

  
“The same” Sam replied simply. Dean’s expression was blank like he hadn’t heard Sam’s reply or at least didn’t understand what he meant by it. “Dean, back in that warehouse when Naomi was controlling Cas, Crowley told me what you said to him, I thought he was joking at first but…”

  
“But what? What did Crowley say I said?” Dean asked in a clipped tone.

  
“He said that… he said you told Cas you loved him.” Sam finished with another shrug. Dean’s lips parted in disbelief but he quickly schooled his expression. He got to his feet and turned around in a slow 180.

  
“And you listened to Crowley? He was yanking your chain Sam!” Dean laughed, but it was forced.

  
“That’s what I thought at first, but then…” Sam stalled, unsure of how to finish, unsure of what it was that now made him certain Crowley had been telling the truth. Was it the way Dean had looked at Cas? The way he prayed to him if he needed help when he used to begrudge asking anyone for anything? The way he was so torn up now that Cas was gone? All the extra alcohol meant to take his mind off it; get him through the day? Dean used to be able to shrug things like this off eventually but with Cas it seemed like the damage was permanent, much like when Cas had disappeared into the waters along with the Leviathans.

  
“Then what Sam? What could possibly make you believe what Crowley said?!” Dean was angry now, he wasn’t shouting but there was a venom in his words that Sam hadn’t heard for years; not since they fought about him exorcising demons and Dean had revealed that the angels wanted him to stop.

  
“Well… I’ve seen you Dean, the way you look at him. The way you’re hurting now that he’s gone” There was no judging behind Sam’s words, only a muted understanding of loss. At this point Dean lost the strength to argue, to deny what was apparently blatant. He hung his head, his shoulders slumped as he covered his eyes with one hand, screwing them shut against the tears that threatened to break the already unstable supports he'd constructed over the past couple of months. Sam was shocked, he wasn’t sure what he’d thought would happen but he hadn’t expected this. He got to his feet and walked hesitantly toward Dean, he wrapped his long arms around his brothers trembling shoulders and drew him into a tight hug, pressing his cheek against the top of Dean’s head. All of Dean’s weight was suddenly weighing him down as though Dean’s legs had lost the strength to carry him.

  
“What am I supposed to do Sammy?” Dean asked through rattling breaths. Sam remained silent, he wasn’t sure how to answer his brother, what could he say? It’ll be alright? He knew from experience that it wouldn’t, even now Jess’s death still affected him, he still choked up when he thought of her. Even after he found Amelia, her death still weighed on him. It was strange thinking that he would have to comfort Dean for a similar thing, and it being over Cas was certainly unexpected.

* * *

  
That night Dean slept fitfully, Sam, however, lay awake staring at the deep purple ceiling, the cold room turning his brother's tears icy against his skin.


End file.
